


Red Dog

by charis2770



Category: Bleach
Genre: Anal Sex, Blood Kink, Bloodplay, Bondage, But they're shinigami, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, I was feeling bloodthirsty, M/M, Magical Bondage, Renji is a pain whore, Rough Sex, Slash, So they can handle it, Sometime vaguely post-canon, This one is a little intense, Whipping, sadistic Byakuya, shikai as a BDSM toy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 18:51:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9916265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charis2770/pseuds/charis2770
Summary: Recently, Renji has been acting a little strange. His behavior at work has started to get awfully close to insubordination, and that's not something Byakuya will tolerate. Outside of work, their relationship is not one of superior and subordinate, but of dominant and submissive, but they've always been careful not to mix the two. Byakuya thinks something may be going on with Renji. They don't get into seriously intense play very often, but it's something they both enjoy very much when they both need it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This story contains a rather intense whipping that breaks skin, and a little blood play. I've been wanting to write something like it for a while, and realized who better to handle it than two supernatural beings who are nearly impossible to kill? Do not do things like this with real people without a lot of careful discussion and planning, because real people are not nearly so resilient! 
> 
> And if the heavy stuff squicks you, give it a pass. But unbearably gorgeous men being brutal is one of my personal kinks, and I'm super happy with how this turned out. It's totally consensual, and at the bottom of it all, it's also a love story.
> 
> To find out more about me and my work, PLEASE check me out here:  
> https://charis2770.tumblr.com/

There are a number of things Captain Kuchiki likes about his lieutenant. He likes Renji’s courage, his loyalty. He likes the passion in everything the younger shinigami does. He likes the way his fukutaicho fights, wild and raw and brutal and  _ exultant _ in his destruction. He likes how strong Renji is. He likes Renji’s drive to get better, to be the best. He likes how hard his lieutenant works to get his paperwork turned in on time and  _ legibly _ , especially knowing this hasn’t always been an easy task for Renji, that indeed he had been completely illiterate when he’d joined the Academy and has heard from more than one person that, during his stint in the 11th, Renji Abarai hadn’t turned in a single report on time (not that the 11th’s animal of a captain would have cared). He likes the way Renji’s eyelids flutter closed and his cheeks flush with pleasure when he’s plied with new and delicious foods he’s never tasted before. He likes the way Renji sounds when his mouth is full of hard cock. He likes the way Renji sounds when he’s lost in his body’s pleasure and  _ especially _ the raw, wrecked, helpless cry he makes when he comes.

 

But Byakua Kuchiki probably likes Renji Abarai the best like this, when he is his Captain’s Red Dog of Inuzuri, reduced to a creature of instinct, raging passion and  _ need _ . And brought to heel. Powerful muscles straining and trembling with fatigue, sweat gleaming on his golden skin and black ink, he kneels at his Taicho’s feet, panting harshly. He’s having a hard time breathing at the moment, as Byakua bears down on him hard with his spiritual presence, his reiatsu crushing Renji’s deliberately, pointedly. This part of tonight is a lesson, because Renji’s need for what they do on nights like this must have gotten pretty bad, as his attitude over the course of the past few days has been growing gradually more and more dangerous, veering perilously close to the edge of real insubordination. And that, regardless of what they may feel for each other, regardless of the fact that they have been lovers now for close to ten years, is something Captain Kuchiki will never tolerate  _ at work. _ So he’s shown his lieutenant, yet again, how easily he can take the younger shinigami down. At least in this way. Renji has been growing steadily stronger over the years, and the older man knows that, at least in part, he tames Renji easily because Renji wants to be tamed. His bankai, his link with Zabimaru, and his control...they are better than most of the other shinigami in the seireitei now. He’s good enough to be a captain in his own right, truth be told, and Byakuya anticipates and dreads the day word of that promotion comes down with equal fervor. He will be happy for Renji, unreservedly so, and proud of him, but he can’t quite bring himself to look forward to losing the best fukutaicho he’s ever had, either.

 

The part that comes after this, though? The rest of tonight will simply be about need, and desire. Any shame or guilt on either of their parts (and, admittedly, the majority of those feelings had been Byakuya’s, related entirely to the lessons he’d been taught in his youth by his family, that his passions and hot-headedness and impulsiveness had been moral failures on his part; that his lust for Renji’s pain had made him some kind of monster) has been dealt with and left behind them in the dust for many years now. He knows his lover  _ wants _ this, craves it, that he’s not merely submitting to it because he knows Byakuya wants it and that he’s capable of bearing it due to his astonishing resilience. Renji is, in fact, already so hard he’s leaking, despite the fact that his body struggles to take in enough oxygen and he’s paralyzed by his captain’s reiatsu. Byakuya smiles thinly and almost - but not quite - kicks the back of Renji’s thigh with his toe. 

 

“Do you yield, dog?” he asks in a bored voice, easing up enough for Renji to suck in a shaky breath.

 

“Yes, Kuchiki-Taicho,” gasps Renji, shuddering when Byakuya’s toe slides up the back of his leg to nudge at the quivering flesh between his thighs. 

 

“Hm. What do you have to say for yourself?”

 

“Ngh. I...I’m sorry, Taicho,” pants Renji, trying not to squirm.

 

“Oho? I’m not sure about that, but you will be. Is that all?” purrs Byakuya, his voice a silky menace. Renji moans softly.

 

“Hah. F-fuck you. Punish me,” growls Renji. The corner of the slender, beautiful dark-haired captain’s mouth quirks up at the corner.

 

“Ohh Renji,” he whispers, “it will be my pleasure.” Then, because he feels like it, because he  _ can _ , because this man...this savage, complicated yet simple, brutal, primitive, incredible man has chosen to belong to him, to fling himself headlong and laughing into the brilliant white light which has no bottom, that is Byakuya’s twisted soul, where their damaged psyches have found healing, forgiveness, acceptance….because Renji is his, and he feels like it, Byakuya surrounds Renji’s reiatsu with his own even more utterly, and squeezes harder. Compresses until Renji’s pained breaths rattle in his lungs and then go still, until his vision begins to grey out at the edges, spots of black dancing before his eyes, because Renji doesn’t fight him, until the redhead’s palm slaps the ground once. Tapping out, before he passes out. There had been a time when Renji had fought it, partly because he had to, and partly because he wanted to and got off on it, until he really did lose consciousness, but Byakuya had fixed that by refusing to play with him this way again until he’d gotten the taller man’s oath that he’d stop. It’s not likely that Byakuya could actually kill Renji with reiatsu alone, especially since he will always, always stop the instant those bunched and straining muscles go slack, at which point Renji will simply be able to breath normally again, without any of the danger from swelling posed by any physical sort of breath play, and Renji’s own reiatsu  _ is _ strong enough to resist a little more effectively than he allows it to. Every now and then, Byakuya still allows himself to wonder how his grandfather would react to the scandalous ways his grandson has discovered for which to use his shinigami gifts, but there is amusement associated with the thought these days, rather than guilt. And Byakuya Kuchiki is  _ extraordinarily _ gifted. He moves to stand in front of Renji, his expression one of haughty indifference, his slate colored eyes cool and appraising, but in reality he hasn’t moved to drive home his pet’s position. He’s done it because Renji gets off on what’s about to happen, loves to see it coming and know there’s nothing he can do about it. Byakuya has more control over and more varied uses for kido than virtually any other shinigami inside Gotei 12. His control is flawless. He’s been casting kido spells without incantation for years, and unlike others of their ilk,  _ his _ are not less powerful without them.

 

Glowing, crackling light snakes out from both of the haughty noble’s hands. Renji’s heavily lidded, whiskey-colored eyes track them hungrily. He moans when they slither around his wrists and forearms, coiling slowly along his skin and tightening. For all that the bonds have the appearance of lightning, they are completely safe and don’t burn the skin. Byakuya knows they’re merely warm, and impart a faint, tingling buzz to any flesh they touch. They are unbreakable when enforced upon anyone of lesser power to their wielder, and Byakuya is worlds ahead of Renji in kido. They are also far safer than any physical bonds, for even if something unforeseen were to happen to Byakuya and Renji were to be left trapped this way, they would eventually dissolve if Byakuya stops concentrating on them. More sparking, snapping tendrils lash out, sinuously sliding up Renji’s thighs while the 6th’s lieutenant shudders and whines softly through his nose, his cock twitching hungrily. He cries out helplessly when Byakuya lets the strands slither lightly over his aching arousal before tightening around his thighs. Smirking, Byakuya tugs on the bonds, forcing Renji’s legs apart wide, then wider still, until the muscles in his legs quiver with strain. He lays his forehead down on his bound arms and whimpers softly, his ridiculous crimson ponytail quivering with his body’s shudders. Byakuya loves nothing more than to see all of that long red hair set free and falling around Renji’s shoulders and down his back, but that will come later. Right now, keeping it up and out of the way serves his purpose better. Renji’s flesh will be marked with other crimson first, and then the glory of his hair will make a fitting frame for the beautiful wreck Byakuya intends to make of him.

 

Once Renji is bound and helpless, spread out like a feast beneath him with his ass in the air and every bit of his intimate charm on lewd display, Byakuya thumbs open the snap at his hip. The pommel of his favorite disciplinary tool slides into his hand, warm and alive in his palm. The whip hisses softly along the floor, curling around Byakuya’s feet like a hungry pet. Renji’s body shivers at the sound.

 

“Please,” he whispers. “Taichou, I need….”

 

“I did not give you permission to speak again, dog,” snaps Byakuya coldly. He bends at the waist, curls his fingers around Renji’s hair at the root where the scarf he’d given his lover binds his hair, and yanks his head back roughly. Renji whimpers eagerly, eyes glittering beneath his lowered eyelids. He meets Byakuya’s savage kiss eagerly, tiny urgent noises in his chest wordlessly begging. “I know what you need,” hisses his captain into the kiss, then sucks hard on Renji’s bottom lip and bites down. The copper tang of blood explodes like rare spice in both their mouths, and a small rumble in Byakuya’s chest tempers the reprimand as he allows his fukutaicho a small glimpse of his own desire. Renji moans again, and presses his lips obediently closed when Byakuya breaks the kiss. 

 

Because it’s fun to keep Renji on his toes, even when he’s on his knees, Byakuya steps quickly into shunpo and appears behind his helpless captive, his arm drawing back even as he flashes out and back into their reality. The first stroke slashes across the broadest part of Abarai’s shoulders, opening a line of pure hellfire in his flesh. A thick welt blooms, beads of scarlet welling like tiny tears. Renji yelps, not prepared for it, his whole body tensing at the shock of the pain, then relaxing again on a ragged groan.

 

“You’ve been a very bad boy this week,” murmurs Byakuya, drawing back and laying down another vicious stroke, creating a raw and weeping X across those powerful shoulders. Renji throws his head back and lets out a low, throbbing cry. “Did you need to be punished so badly?”

 

Byakuya gets only another deep moan in reply. He frowns, and whips Renji’s upthrust, obscenely spread ass hard, three times in quick succession. Dark red blooms across the only part of Renji’s skin that isn’t tanned the warm gold the noble shinigami loves so much. Renji yelps in pain.

 

“Ye...yes, Taicho,” he pants, getting the message. 

 

“Why?” Byakuya’s voice holds the same cool, almost disinterested tone it always does when he’s working, or dealing with other members of Shinigami society and the souls who reside in their realm, or most of his own family. Renji Abarai is the only person who knows the man beneath the ice, who sees the passions the leader of the Kuchiki clan hides from the rest of the world, knows his wry sense of humor and that there is so much more to the pale, cold beauty who is his lover. But Byakuya knows now that Renji loves him like this too, that it’s one of Renji’s kinks, and it drives him wild when Byakuya treats him like this when Byakuya lets his sadistic side out to play, just as the younger man gets off on using Byakuya’s title when he’s being dominated. Sometimes it entertains him to force Renji to answer questions when his brain is already going spinning off into orbit, because it gives both of them a lovely excuse for Renji to be “punished” even more severely when he fails to respond to Byakuya’s satisfaction, but… But it has been several years since Renji has actually treated him with anything other than respect due his position at work. He knows how important it is to Byakuya. That he’s danced so close to that line this week is a little worrisome. He hasn’t crossed it...quite, but he’s come too close to ignore. It could be nothing more than frustration. A natural disaster and various other headaches have kept them very busy for the past month, and they’ve been lucky to squeeze out an hour here and there to be alone together, their coupling forcibly reduced to a quick fuck before collapsing into exhausted slumber about once a week if they’re lucky. There’s definitely been no time for this, or the other games of dominance and submission they like to play. It could be nothing more than that. But it could be more. He stays his hand, drawing the five foot lash through his long, elegant fingers, staring down at Renji, and waits. Renji squirms a little in his bonds and his fingers curl into fists. “Truth from you, Renji, or this ends now.” Renji sighs, and the straining muscles in his shoulders relax.

 

“Kyoraku-Soutaicho spoke to me,” he mutters, his voice muffled where he presses his face against his bound forearms. Byakuya’s breath catches in his throat.

 

“And?” he asks softly. There is no hint of dread in his voice, though it sits cold and heavy in the pit of his stomach.

 

“It’s not now,” says Renji quickly. “But he….he said I’m next. The….the next opening. For Captain. Mine if I want it. Nobody’s retiring. Could be a month, or a year, ten years, or...or a hundred.” Because Renji isn’t looking at him, Byakuya allows his shoulders to slump a little in relief. Not yet, then.

 

“That’s wonderful, Renji. No one deserves it more than you,” he says softly, and he means it with every fiber of his being.

 

“It is. An’ I want it. I do. But I...not being with you every day, seein’ you, knowin’ I belong to you, that’s gonna be….”

 

“I know. For me too, Renji. But it will change nothing. Whether you are a Captain, or a Lieutenant, or you get slapped back down to the rank and file because your hot head and smart mouth gets you into trouble you can’t get out of, you will always belong to me. And I will never tire of forcibly reminding you of that fact.” Renji’s sigh is peaceful.

 

“Show me,” he whispers. “Taicho, oh….prove it again.” Byakuya’s smile is fleeting, but it is exultant, wicked,  _ hungry. _

 

“Have no fear, my vicious, disobedient cur. It will ever be my privilege to drive your reality as deeply into your flesh as you could ever require.”

 

Renji’s full-body shudder and heartfelt, desperate moan is all the answer Byakuya needs. The whip moves in his hands like a live thing, its tight, 12-plait braid with the weighted core and lead shot loaded butt seems indeed to have a life of its own, a well-trained serpent that answers eagerly to its master’s hand. It hisses and slices through the air faster than sound, cracking and slashing against Renji’s flesh with a dark hunger. Byakuya’s teeth flash white in the shadows of his exercise room at his estate. Every lash leaves in its wake a throbbing weal, many of them slicing into Renji’s flesh. And Renji….Renji responds to it  _ beautifully. _ He pulls against his restraints, muscles quivering with effort, but not to escape. Oh no. His nude body yearns towards his tormentor, and his cock grows harder and harder, shining wet at the tip. Within a few minutes, a silvery strand of precome weeps from the slit and reaches all the way to the ground and few inches below his splayed thighs. 

 

Judging him more than ready, Byakuya redoubles his efforts. The whip is a blur in the air, its impact on Renji’s sweat-sheened skin a thick, meaty sound which merges and harmonizes with Renji’s increasingly desperate sounds. The pain must be incandescent, but the only sounds spilling from Renji’s slack mouth are of need and hunger. He is more beautiful to his lover at moments like this than at any other time, clad in nothing but the ebony ink adorning his powerful body, gleaming sweat of pain and exertion, tiny threads of startling crimson sliding hot and thick down his back, ass and thighs, utterly submissive, gloriously wanton, achingly sensual. Byakuya wants him with a ferocity that surprises him. His own arousal aches between his legs like a bruise. Saliva pools in his mouth, and he can feel the restraints of civilized gentility he wraps around himself by choice slipping their bonds. His slate colored eyes glitter hot silver behind the shadows of his hair where it falls across his face, molten with heat. 

  
  


The tip of the whip’s lash curls around Renji’s thighs, bites hard into his back, and nips cruelly at his ass, In Byakuya’s hand it is a master instrument, licking its cruel kiss into even the tenderest of flesh and wringing pained howls from his lover. Tears of strain and torment roll down Renji’s face. 

 

“Hurts,” he sobs. “Agh! Taicho, it hurts…”

 

“ _ Good, _ ” hisses Byakuya, and keeps up the relentless assault. Renji begs him for mercy, but Byakuya smirks and pays no attention to the words. There is only one thing Renji can say to stop him, and his obvious arousal despite the pain he’s in make it clear that he’s a very long way from uttering  _ that _ particular word. No, this is simply because Renji loves to beg, and Byakuya loves to let him. Actually, the sound of Renji’s voice, ragged and cracked with strain and torment, breathless and agonized, desperate for Byakuya’s touch, his suffering evident in every choked syllable….it’s the most gorgeous thing he’s ever heard.

 

When Byakuya strolls over to the wall and hangs the signal whip on a hook there, he hears Renji muffle a small, mournful sound, but he doesn’t put his protest into words. Byakuya grants Renji a rare, approving smile.

 

“Don’t think I’m finished with you yet,” he says coldly, looking down his nose at the helplessly bound man on the floor. Renji shivers and whimpers softly, but relief shines in his eyes. They widen in sudden shock when Byakuya reaches, not for another of their many toys of pain and pleasure which have been collected over the years….but for Senbonzakura.

 

_ Finally _ , hisses the weapon in Byakuya’s mind as he slowly draws it from its scabbard. Renji gasps at the ring of steel and its bright flash in the dim room, lit only by one small lamp and a few glowing candles. Byakuya prowls back towards his lover, pinning Renji’s fascinated gaze with his own. Renji stares at them both, mesmerised. Pride and pleasure warm the Captain’s cold heart when he recognizes that he sees no true fear in Renji’s eyes, only trust and desire and  _ yes _ . He lifts the elegant blade before his own eyes, his fingers stroking lightly up the katana’s length, focusing his energy and his mind.

 

_ I hunger, _ growls Senbonzakura in his master’s thoughts. 

 

“Taste only,” thinks Byakuya sternly. Senbonzakura recognizes him as his master, but there are, very rarely, times when the weapon’s blood lust and rage have been able to slip Byakuya’s restraints and take over. It has required many, many conversations with his lover, or rather, many, many nights of Renji wheedling and cajoling without success, for Byakuya to even consider this. Renji can’t control a small wriggle of excitement when he watches his master draw the shining katana from its wrapped scabbard, or hold back a tiny whine of eagerness in his throat. They have played before with normal knives, but nothing like this.

 

Senbonzakura snarls in Byakuya’s head, affronted at the admonition.  _ He is ours, brother. I would keep him safe too. _ It’s very interesting to Byakuya that Senbonzakura feels this way about Renji, considering the barely contained animosity the demon blade feels towards Renji’s zanpakuto, Zabimaru. The younger shinigami’s weapon is far from sanguine about the relationship between its wielder and his Taicho. Renji kneeling at Byakuya’s feet to willingly allow himself to be beaten seems to chafe at Zabimaru’s barbarous nature and it longs to cross blades with Senbonzakura again in earnest, to fight for superiority in defense of his bearer’s honor. Both Byakuya and Renji find it a little amusing that, out of the small handful of people who are aware of the nature of their relationship, it is the one who knows Renji best that still struggles to accept it, though at least this is only because Zabimaru isn’t capable of understanding the finer points of sentient relationships and sex, not because he’s actually judging them. Things are much more black and white for the weapon, and it still struggles mightily to understand that Renji doesn’t submit because he’s been defeated, but because he wants to, and that Byakuya isn’t forcing him to do it. But in that same note, it also surprises him how well Senbonzakura  _ does _ seem to understand, which is the reason (that, and the fact that Byakuya’s control over his shikai and bankai both has grown exponentially over the years) he finally feels confident enough to do this. Renji never need know how many melons have been laid waste in practice for this night.

 

“Oh, fuck yeah,” breathes Renji, wriggling a little with excitement. Byakuya glares sternly at him, flash-steps back behind him and brings the palm of his hand down  _ hard _ on his lover’s welted ass in a punishing spank. Renji chokes on a cry of pain. Appearing in front of him once more, Byakuya is gratified to see a tear trickling down Renji’s cheek and a more appropriately solemn expression on his face.

 

“You must be utterly still, Renji,” he warns fiercely. Renji nods earnestly. “If you move even an inch, I may harm you more than I am willing to accept. I want this. As much as you do. Possibly more.” Byakuya speaks no less than the truth. On the day more than a year ago when Renji had casually mentioned, while they had been lying in bed together sated and happy following a lengthy session with Byakuya’s riding crop, that he wanted Byakuya to play with him with his zanpakuto….despite the fact that he’d come less than ten minutes ago hard enough to curl his toes and see stars, Byakuya had found himself almost instantly hard again at the thought. It had remained a fantasy for a long time, out of concern for safety and Byakuya’s own fears of losing control.

 

“My oath on it, Kuchiki Taicho,” whispers Renji, and though his voice is raw and hoarse from crying out during his whipping, he sounds clear-headed enough, and his eyes are focused. He may be blissed out on the endorphins singing through his blood, but he knows what he’s consenting to, and he wants it. Byakuya smiles thinly.

 

“Very well. But if you move, this stops at once, and I will never risk it again. You are more important to me than my thirst for this, and I find I’ve grown fond of you as an intact creature, though I’m still not sure how that came to be, exactly.” He utters these last words with a small smile, to show Renji he doesn’t mean them. Renji grins up at him, uncowed despite the thick weals that map his muscled flesh, some of them bloody.

 

“Eh, Taicho,” he jokes, “it’s ‘cause I’m stubborn, an’ I wanted you so bad I wouldn’t give up until you took what belonged to ya.”

 

“That’s true enough, I suppose,” murmurs Byakuya. He crouches down in front of his lieutenant and lifts Renji’s chin on his fingertips. “But I didn’t resist you because I didn’t want you,” he admits softly. “I did. I wanted you from the first moment I saw you fight. I wanted to bring you to your knees, Renji. Only for me. Not to break you, never that. But just because I knew you’d be so. Pretty. Like this. Look at you. You’re desperate, aren’t you? You want this so badly you’re trembling. You’d come in almost an instant if I touched that naughty cock, you’re so hard. Leaking all over my floor. I should make you lick it up, you nasty thing. But you don’t get to come yet. Not until I’ve marked you even more, as mine. Then I’ll fuck you. It’s not going to be gentle. I’m just going to  _ take _ you. Oh Renji, you’ll scream….”

 

Renji chokes out a broken, needful whimper and shudders. Byakuya smirks. He smashes his mouth down on the slack, panting lips below him and kisses Renji brutally, then straightens, rising to his feet as though nothing has happened, leaving Renji trembling with desire. He raises Senbonzakura in front of his face, two fingers running up the length of his blade. Flicking his eyes down at Renji one last time with a hard glare of warning and pausing until he sees Renji go completely still, he stares straight into his lover’s eyes and whispers,

 

“Scatter.”

 

Senbonzakura erupts. The breathtaking glow of thousands of razor-sharp sakura petals fills the air around them. Byakuya himself, holding Senbonzakura’s hilt, stands in the safe zone. Were he not in complete control of his weapon, the explosion could have ripped Renji to shreds, but it isn’t just Renji with whom Byakuya’s been discussing this for a very long time. 

 

_ I taste his fear, his excitement, _ purrs Senbonzakura.

 

“You won’t forget what we’ve talked about,” warns Byakuya, and hears the katana’s amused laugh in his head.

 

 _I am thousands of years older than you, little Captain_ , replies his zanpakuto. _We will hurt him exactly as much as we want him hurt, and no more._ _You should let him know he’s allowed to breathe though, or he’s going to pass out in a minute._ Byakuya suppresses a laugh.

 

“Breathe, Renji,” he orders calmly. Renji gasps a little, and stops holding his breath. With a wicked smirk, Byakuya directs one of the swirling petals. It flicks Renji’s skin, on his left bicep between black bands of ink. A tiny cut appears as if out of thin air. Renji moans. His cock twitches between his legs, and a thicker bead of clear fluid wells up and rolls down the dark red tip.

 

Slowly, like a predator stalking its trapped prey, Byakuya prowls around Renji’s body, drinking in the sight of the powerful man at his feet, reaching out with his power to allow a fragment of his shikai to lick at golden skin. The cuts are shallow, almost too shallow to break Renji’s skin, but miniscule dots and dashes of red blossom in their wake. Every muscle in Renji’s body quivers with the effort it costs him to remain absolutely still. Byakuya knows that Renji longs to squirm and writhe as pain and pleasure twist in his guts. But his master has ordered him to be still, and Renji’s need to rebel has been completely cowed. He’s been ordered to be still, but not to be silent, and he knows Byakuya won’t cut his face, because they’ve talked about it. A litany of filth and pleading pours from his mouth.

 

“Fuck,” he breathes, “ _ Fuck _ , this is hot. Ngh. More, do more. Taicho, god, want you so bad. This is...ahh….shit, awesome. Do it. Bleed me. Ohhhfuck. Wanna come so bad. Hah! Shit! Hurts. Can’t take anymore. Need you. Inside me. So hard. Ah...hngh…. _ Fuck _ ! Please, Taicho, I can’t….”

 

“You’ll take what I give you,” snarls Byakuya, staring in fascination at the wreck he’s made of Renji’s body. The thick, cruel welts and cuts from his whip accented by the delicate, elegant, tiny cuts from Senbonzakura turn Renji into a work of twisted art. He is so beautiful it takes Byakuya’s breath away. Over and over, slowly and with a painstaking care that leaves Byakuya trembling with exertion at the mental control required to do this right, he marks Renji’s body all over with his shikai. Renji, as good as his word, doesn’t move a muscle except for the fine tremor in every muscle. He cries out, and begs, and finally  _ screams _ when Byakuya grins evilly and  _ flicks _ a petal just behind his balls, the barest of scratches that doesn’t bleed like many of the other cuts but burns and stings anyway, its intimate location magnifying the sensation tenfold. Panting a little himself, Byakuya holds out his free arm, the one not holding Senbonzakura’s hilt. This had been one of the katana’s conditions, even though Byakuya had been able to tell from the very first discussion that his weapon had been excited by the proposition of this scene.

 

_ I’ll do this, _ he’d said.  _ I’ll swear to you not to damage him, no matter how good he tastes. On one condition. _

 

“Oh?” Byakuya had asked, amused at the blade pretending not to want what he proposed. “And what would that be?”

 

_ You’ll let me taste you too. _

 

Byakuya had blinked in surprise at that, but when he’d told Renji about it, his lover had gone off into gales of laughter. Once he’d calmed down and been imperiously ordered to explain what was so funny, Renji had tried, still fizzing a bit with amusement.

 

“Oh god, Taicho, I don’t know if it’s the real reason or not, but….so you get how swords are kinda...phallic, right? How….um...stabbing someone is a kind of penetration. It just struck me funny is all, the idea that it’s not just half of the seireitei who think you’re hot. Almost all the women and a lot of the men too, but that your zanpakuto’s a little bit gay for you too!” Byakuya had sniffed in disdain at the very idea of such a thing, but it had been interesting. Still, he’s almost certain Senbonzakura’s demand is about blood lust rather than any other kind of lust, and he thinks it’s a fair request. He’s asked a lot of his partner, to restrain himself so much. If it’s a blood price Senbonzakura wants in return, he considers it just. 

 

Sakura petals of light, steel and magic swirl around the arm which extends outside the safe zone. Byakuya doesn’t flinch when one flashes across his forearm. Blood wells sluggishly in the shallow cut. 

 

_ Thank you. _

 

In the blink of an eye, Senbonzakura is a while blade once more. Byakuya returns his thanks and sheaths the weapon, returning it to its stand against the wall. His blood beats thick and hot in his veins as his head slowly swivels back towards Renji, kneeling on the floor still bound by ropes made of Byakuya’s will. In a flash, he is beside his lover, deft fingers untying the silk scarf tying back the man’s long, exotic red hair. Freed from its tail, Renji’s hair falls around his face and shoulders and slides in red ribbons down his back, mixing with the tiny rivulets of blood shining on his skin. Unable to resist, and why should he after all, Byakuya leans down and licks a long stripe up Renji’s back, tasting the salt of his skin and the metallic spice of his blood. None of the wounds are deep, from the lash or from Byakuya’s shikai. All will heal in a day or two, and none will interfere with Renji’s ability to fight. He becomes aware that Renji is chanting something softly under his breath, and pays attention to the words.

 

“Fuck me, fuck me. fuck me, fuckmefuckme….”

 

Well then. His own lust has been kept tightly leashed for far too long anyway. Byakuya growls, a feral, animal sound that trickles out between his teeth. Concentrating on his kido, Byakuya seizes the bonds on Renji’s arms and pulls them under him, forcing his arms down, down between his legs, to connect the shining, cracking ropes of magic energy to the ones binding his legs. It folds Renji practically in half and cants his hips up even further into the air, splaying him obscenely and spreading his whipped ass wide. The tightly clenched pucker of his hole is clearly visible now. Byakuya stares in silence while Renji gasps and tries to squirm, his ears bright red at being so blatantly displayed. Byakuya’s fingertips softly trace the marks the whip has left, his cock surging inside his hakama at the sight. The tip of the lash has curled now and then around the rounded cheeks, and there are even a few smaller welts that dip into the crack of Renji’s ass. Oh, how those must have burned, so shocking in such a tender place. He touches them to hear Renji whimper, softly taps the tiny scratch on his taint, ghosts a fingertip over the twitching hole. It’s a little swollen, a little red, as though he’s even been struck there as well just the slightest bit. Not enough to harm him really, because despite his supernatural shinigami strength and endurance, Byakuya is pretty sure that a whip stroke directly upon this place would have torn a shriek of unadulterated agony from Renji’s throat, and there had been no such sound.

 

“Did you feel it here too,” he murmurs, tickling softly. “The tip of my lash on your slut hole?”

 

“Ngh,” pants Renji, trying to push back against the light touch. “Ah...a...a little. God.”

 

“Hm. Filthy boy. And yet you’re still hard.”

 

“ _ Please _ Byakuya!” sobs Renji desperately. Now that he’s no longer being put in his place, Renji doesn’t need to use his lover’s title anymore.

 

“Maybe next time I’ll aim for it on purpose. Make you hold yourself open. What do you think?”

 

“Oh fuck….”

 

“Interesting. That’s not a ‘no,’” muses Byakuya. Renji moans helplessly. “Just  _ think _ about how bad it will hurt, Renji. To be fucked so hard after I whip you here.”

 

“Fuck. I’m...please, I’m gonna come,” begs Renji.

 

He can, Byakuya knows, just from the sound of his master’s voice, after Byakuya has brought him to this place where he’s robbed of all his snark and sass and bravado.

 

“You certainly are,” growls Byakuya in a low voice. He doesn’t want to wait anymore either. Renji is almost at his limit, and so is his lover. Hurriedly, Byakuya strips off his haori (which he wouldn’t normally be wearing when they play this way, but tonight had been about reminding Renji a little about respect) and kosode, laying them aside carefully. He discards his shitage carelessly, as it’s one of many he owns, then works at his white hakama-himo, untying the belts to loosen his hakama and shoving the garment out of the way. The only raiment of his office and rank he’s not wearing are his kenseikan, because he’d known he wouldn’t want to take the time required to remove them, or his hair to get tangled in them as it’s a nightmare to remove them when that happens. He reaches for the bottle of oil he’d placed nearby earlier, plucking out the cork. The scent of rare and expensive sandalwood perfumes the air, and Renji moans again, shuddering in response to the well-known fragrance of his lover’s favorite scent and the knowledge of what it means. 

 

Byakuya tips the bottle and pours a little of the oil over the spread crack between Renji’s cheeks. His fingers follow, spreading it over sensitive flesh while Renji bucks a little and curses in frantic impatience. Smearing a thumb through the slippery substance, Byakuya smirks and then shoves his thumb hard into the quivering hole. Renji cries out and shakes, his whole body tensing at the invasion. It isn’t pain. Renji can take what Byakuya’s about to do to him and revel in the agony of it. No, he’s trying not to come on the spot. The older shinigami huffs out a remorseless laugh. He twists his thumb a couple of times to slick the clenching asshole well, then pulls it out and wipes it on Renji’s ass. Impatiently, he applies more of the stuff to his own aching erection, then grabs Renji’s hips and gently nestles the head of his cock against the redhead’s entrance.

 

“This is going to hurt so much,” he purrs. Renji whimpers. Byakuya digs his fingers into the other man’s hips hard enough to bruise, then snaps his hips forward, burying his cock to the hilt with one brutal shove. Renji howls in pain at being pried open so ruthlessly, his bound hands scrabbling at the floor between his knees. He can’t even try to crawl away in this position, his hands unable to find purchase, his cheek and shoulders pressed against the floor. Screams tear from his throat as Byakuya gives him no time to adjust to the eye-watering stretch, but drags his cock back and then rams it in again, his hips slapping against Renji’s beaten ass with a meaty smack. Renji sobs a little as he’s fucked open roughly, his hole spasming and clutching at Byakuya’s punishing cock. It takes a while for his body to soften, and Byakuya thrills at Renji’s agonised cries. But slowly, gradually, the strain and hurt in the sound gets interrupted by a different sort of cry when the prick coring him open without mercy drags hard over his prostate. Pain and pleasure tangle with each other, clashing until they at last find a balance, and merge. 

 

“Hah,” cries Renji, his voice torn and ragged, “Kuya! Please!”

 

“What is it, Ren?” asks Byakuya a little breathlessly, for Renji is tight and silky soft and warm inside. “I’d do...nnh...anything for you right now. Haa. Except stop.”

 

“No,” gasps Renji. “Please,  _ harder. _ ”

 

“My god, I love you,” pants Byakuya, and fucks him harder. Renji howls and tries to help him, rocking back as best he can to fuck himself more deeply on his lover’s cock. Byakuya can feel his own impending pleasure drawing his body tighter than a bow, its teeth and claws digging into his spine.

 

“Kuya, please,” begs Renji. “I need...I’m...please, I can’t...I….”

 

“Ren,” snarls Byakuya, “ _ come _ .”

 

Renji shrieks, his tight hole clamping down so hard it hurts, ropes of sticky spend spurting from his cock to spatter on the floor and his own stomach. Byakuya manages to fuck him through most of his orgasm, then tosses his head back, black hair flying, and loses himself in the clutching warmth of his lover’s body, filling Renji with his seed with a guttural moan. It’s all he can manage for a few seconds not to topple over on top of Renji’s shaking form as he trembles with the force of his pleasure. When his vision clears a little and the room stops spinning, he banishes Renji’s magical bonds with a thought and eases gently from the other man’s body. Renji whimpers softly, then pitches over face first to collapse on the floor. Byakuya lowers himself down beside his lover with shaking limbs and cards his fingers through damp strands of crimson hair, pressing kisses to Renji’s temple and cheek. Renji’s lips quirk up in a surprisingly sweet, fleeting smile. 

 

“Can you stand?” asks Byakuya softly after a few minutes. Renji groans theatrically.

 

“Ask me next week,” he mutters. Byakuya chuckles and helps him to his feet, despite the fact that Renji is several inches taller and almost 50 pounds heavier. There are many people who have misjudged Byakuya Kuchiki’s physical strength to their own grief. They stumble down the hall to Byakuya’s bed chamber, ignoring the one startled servant they encounter on the way.

 

“She must be new,” says Renji sleepily, chuckling a little. Byakuya grins.

 

“Mm. I believe so. A pity no one warned her to stay out of this wing when we’re using the training room at such an hour. I shall have to discipline someone. Poor girl.”

 

“Long’s you don’t discipline anybody else the way you do me,” growls Renji weakly in mock jealousy.

 

“I’m not sure anyone else would survive it. They’ll have to settle for one of my famous tirades and kitchen duty for a few days,” smiles Byakuya, helping Renji collapse face-first on the bed with a groan. He picks up the small pot of salve out of a drawer in the bedside table, along with a damp cloth he’d placed there earlier. Gently, he begins to clean Renji’s body and tend to his small wounds. Renji bears it with ill grace, complaining the whole time.

 

“Ugh. Stop it. ‘M fine,” he mumbles into his pillow.

 

“Stop whining,” says Byakuya with mock severity, “or I’ll spank you.”

 

“Tmrrngh,” says Renji indistinctly.

 

“What was that?” inquires Byakuya in a tone that implies Renji had best not ignore him. Renji doesn’t need to know that Byakuya’s arms have currently the strength of overcooked udon noodles.

 

“Tomorrow,” says Renji, lifting his head enough to be heard. 

 

“Tomorrow  _ what _ ?”

 

“C’n you spank me tomorrow?” sighs Renji blissfully, laying his head back down, but with his face turned to the side this time so he can smile goofily at his lover. Byakuya wrinkles his nose and laughs.

 

“You’re incorrigible!”

 

“Yeah, you mighta said that a time or two,” says Renji sleepily, then winces when Byakuya rubs salve over one of the worse whip marks.

 

“I meant what I said, you know,” Byakuya says softly. “I’m so proud of you, Ren. Whenever it is that a position comes open for you, you’re going to make a wonderful captain. But even if the day should come that you even outrank me, it will change nothing. You belong to me, and I will never tire of it, never stop making you scream for me. Never let you go.”

 

“‘Kay,” says Renji happily, burrowing close to bury his face in Byakuya’s neck. “But about that spanking….”

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place years into Byakuya and Renji's relationship, and I just couldn't resist the idea of them having pet names for each other. I don't care if it's a little OOC for them in canon, this takes place in the future, and they've grown a lot closer. So there.
> 
> Also, any canon mistakes are mine. I don't claim to be an expert on Bleach. I've watched the anime, but it's been quite a while, so please just chalk it up to my memory not being what it once was and forgive me?
> 
> I'd love to hear what you guys think!


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